


Lost In Translation

by saigne



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Hurt No Comfort, M/M, also its just him so ye, good ol 76 is suffering and old, wrote this because this one damn tumblr post wouldnt get out of my head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 09:19:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8138809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saigne/pseuds/saigne
Summary: He' tired, he's hurt, he's alone, and very little in this world is a comfort to Soldier 76.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based off this tumblr post : http://badookie.tumblr.com/post/150765131941/comfort-shirt
> 
> Didn't really proofread this so if you wanna point out errors that would be really rad pals.

He figures out what the shirt means pretty quickly. The shit eating grin Gabe is wearing as he hands Jack the shirt makes it clear that he'd be a fool to trust it. Its obvious that the text in parenthesis isn't the real translation, and when he types it into Google Jack isn’t hurt. He was expecting it, and he knows Gabe knows he would look it up anyways. it's not meant to make a fool of him. He thinks.

 

It doesn’t stop him from wearing the shirt constantly either, much to Gabe’s amusement. It's comforting, something he can wear that reminds him of Gabe that doesn’t really give away the true extent of his feelings. A friend can wear a shirt another friend gave him, that's okay. It's something that at face value is very different from what it really means.

 

Who would have thought a t-shirt could be a metaphor for their relationship.

 

Even when they start to drift apart Jack wears it, though now he only dons the item in private. The looks the others give him hurt too much. The strike commander can't risk being seen with a shirt like that.

 

He wonders is gabe even remembers the shirt. If he knows how much it means.

 

Jack supposes its Reyes now. 

 

It hurts, the separation, though Jack can understand some of it he feels like he's missing some of it. Like there’s something wrong because how else could a relationship like theirs be ruined. He knows gabe, knows that he's angry, but he also knows that it can't just break like this. And then hes too busy running an organization built to fall to think back on Gabe.

 

_ Tu eres un pendejo _ . 

 

He really is.

 

* * *

 

It's been a long day, his visor is cracked and Ja- Soldier drags himself back to his safehouse. The gang he was after was prepared for his attack and while he succeeded (not that prepared), he took a lot more damage than he would have. A hand sliding along his chest confirms that a rib is cracked, and he hisses when fingers press against it on accident. 

 

He closes the door, sealing it before making his way across the room to sit at the edge of a worn down bed, blanket threadbare and dusty and he can't really be bothered to clean it. Doesn't really have a way to clean it, anyways. 

 

It's cold, and he shudders when the jacket comes off, soon followed by the skin tight under armor and it makes sense to leave it on but he's tired and weak and if someone wanted to kill him right now he’d barely be able to defend himself. Super soldier serum can only go so far when he's malnourished and sleep deprived.

 

_ It’s called a safe house for a reason _ , Soldier tells himself. He reaches under the bed, pulling out  duffel bag that's in worse condition than the bed. The zipper barely works, opening and catching repeatedly before Soldier opens it enough to get what he wants. 

 

He reaches in, pulling out a black t-shirt full of holes and old enough that now it's gray. He slips it on, ignoring wounds screaming in protest at the movement because it’s all he has. It’s the only weakness he’s allowed, this time. 

 

He needs answers and the only way is to dive into a hail of bullets alone.  _ We’ve been compromised _ , a ghost whispers in his ear as he thumbs the fabric. He really can't trust anyone anymore, realizing this too late, confidence and skepticism leading him down the wrong path until he ended up here. By himself in a shithole, the most important people in his life dead.

 

Soldier shivers, grabbing his jacket and throwing it over his shoulders, bringing his legs closer and it's so cold. He can't tell if it's from blood loss or the weather or something else he wont name. He shivers again, curling in on himself and he's going to regret it in the morning.

 

The visor is suddenly too much, and he rips it off, dropping it beside him on the bed and taking in a deep breath. The tears prickling the corners of his eyes are justified by the pain, ignoring times when past injuries were worse and he didn't even flinch.

 

It’s so cold, and he feels so tired, the only thing he has reminding him of a better time being the shirt on his back and the memories it brings to him. The only thing keeping him going the smell of burning flesh it makes him remember, and he finally breaks. 

 

Soldier brings a hand up to his face, rubbing at his eyes and trying to wipe away tears that fall too fast for him to catch.

 

_ You are my friend _ .


End file.
